Just A Bit Haunted
by xxWord Playxx
Summary: And so what if Zack haunted Cloud after he died? This may have a few answers. ONESHOT Hinted ZackxCloud There's some AngealxZack if you squint and tip your head. Rated for language and safety.


This is just a little something I thought up after... hearing a SONG, I think.

I never got around to putting it up here, but I decided to so I don't lose it again.

Omnom. Hauntings.

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The moment Cloud entered the room, he knew he was there

The moment Cloud entered the room, he knew he was there. He didn't need to look up. He didn't need to say anything or acknowledge his existence. In fact, those were the last things that he wanted to do. Not that ignoring him would make him go away—no. That was never something that worked. If anything, it just worsened the situation.

Still. It was worth a try.

He still had to try and so some of the things he'd planned for. Like. Eating, say. And unplugging his phone so that Tifa couldn't call him and ask him why she wasn't allowed to hang around the place anymore. Two simple things on his 'to do' list, and yet it wouldn't be so easy.

It was nice and quiet, the way he had left it earlier before going out to make a simple delivery. He liked it that way, but as he walked past the television it was ruined. Almost immediately, the appliance switched on, Cloud having been no where near close enough to push a button, and noise filled the insides of the walls.

"I'm not in the mood to play, Zack." This was muttered, more to himself that to what appeared to be an empty apartment. He didn't bother with moving to put the noise to rest, he just kept on with his original mission. Get. To. The. Fridge. This meant walking past the wooden chair that would tip over, past the fishtank that began to bubble, over the small rug that would shift upon the wooden floor of his kitchen, and around the edge of the wall to avoid the cabinet where he kept what was left of his dishware.

He knew that he looked rather odd, moving out of the way of things before they did something random, almost as if he had it timed in his mind. He did, in a sense. Depending on the mood, only certain things happened.

Like the apple. He was used to seeing it. The moment his handle touched the fridge, he knew that there would be one inside there, somewhere—but only the first time he opened it. After closing the door and opening it once again, it would be gone; his mind playing him.

So he ignored it, when he saw it, casually reaching for the milk before moving to calmly set the jug on the counter. He felt uneasy: nothing else had moved. It could have been a sign of several things, the worst one being that he was in for something unpleasant.

Where was he? He was watching. But from where? The fridge? The livingroom? Somewhere else in the kitchen? Was he right behind him, angry because he was trying to ignore him? Had he gone somewhere else?

These questions raced through his head, until it forced him to start speaking.

"You know… I just don't know what it is you want from me."

Risking it, he grabbed a glass from the cabinet and slowly shut it.

"I'm doing what you said. I'm living for both of us. The delivery thing—it's what you meant, right?"

Silence. He poured himself a glass of milk and put the rest back where it was originally.

He was starting to get frustrated.

"I can have you doing this anymore, Zack! How am I supposed to sleep when you're thumping around or turning the radio on? I know that you care and that you want me to know that you're still around but… but… it's too much!"

Nothing.

"I fuckin' mean it, Zack! I can't even have Tifa over because of you and your—is this an obsession? I thought that you'd be happy to see Angeal—"

Beside him, the glass shattered; milk painting the counter and down to the floor. Cloud stared at it a moment, a familiar chill in the room. His voice quieted.

"…you're right. That was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

Emptiness took the place of a chill and eyes. Eyes that always watched him, no matter where he was. Zack. Had gone somewhere else, for a bit. Giving him time to clean up the glass and maybe watch something _he_ wanted to on the television.

Why was he still around? Was he stuck here, in this world? Was he so angry about his death—had there been something that he wanted to accomplish that only Cloud had the chance to now? Was he stuck somewhere without his friends—without the people he had wanted to see in the end?

He didn't know.

He didn't even fucking understand.

All he knew was—without things tipping over. Without glass breaking, windows shaking or rooms going cold… when music from nowhere stopped playing.

He felt alone.

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